


Our Mouths Are Weaponry

by DressedUpLikeDreams



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Antagonism, Attempt at Humor, Banter, F/M, Sexual Content, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DressedUpLikeDreams/pseuds/DressedUpLikeDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have a nightcap with me and I’ll let you get to bed.” When she started to refuse, he added an oddly sincere, “Please. I hate to drink alone.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Mouths Are Weaponry

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading fanfiction for years, but I'm new to actually writing it. I don't love this, but I figured I have to start somewhere haha. Would love to hear what you think, positive or negative =).

Liz watched as Red slipped quietly into the small room where she sat at a little round table with Ressler and Meera flanking her on either side. Red sauntered in -- with seemingly impeccable timing -- at the precise moment she was closing the informal meeting.

“It’s late,” said Red with a smile that seemed to her too easy, too effortlessly solicitous. “You should get some rest before tomorrow's meeting with my contact.” It was a general statement, ostensibly meant for the collective group, but Liz observed that Red’s keen gaze rested a little longer on her than on the other two.

Her room was only a couple of doors down. Even so, Red, obviously determined to play the role of magnanimous host, insisted on walking her personally to her quarters.

“It’s small but it’s warm,” said Red as he opened the door for her. “I took the liberty of leaving a couple of extra blankets for you tonight.”

“Mmmm, we do appreciate your efforts, Red,” said Liz without enthusiasm. She gave him a bland smile.

He invited her, yet again, to call him Raymond.

“Goodnight, Red,” said Liz pointedly as she placed a hand against the door.

“You really do have that down,” said Red with an amused chuckle, placing one of his own hands against the door frame. The mask of cordiality had evaporated and Liz got the impression that the real Raymond Reddington had just stepped forward.

“I’m sorry?”

“That unimpressed imperial air. The royal we. Please believe me, Lizzie...I say this with admiration and not malice.” He touched a hand to his heart for emphasis. “It’s so incredibly illuminating watching the way you can turn it on and off so effortlessly.”

“I’m not even going to make a guess as to what ‘it’ refers to,” said Liz coldly, all pretense of politeness gone.

“‘It’ refers to whatever your agenda is at the time. An hour ago it was -- how did you put it? Oh, yes, 'playing the religious card' to get information out of our blacklister's accomplice. Brilliantly followed up by that luminous -- angelic really -- expression that you managed to affect for him.” He bowed at her, a mockingly deferential gesture. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

Liz’s eyes flashed. “Is there a point to this spiel of yours? If I’d known that I’d be subject to your rhetoric, I would have taken my chances and slept in the car.” She smiled sweetly. “At least in there it was quiet.”

“I could arrange that. I’ll even take you down myself.”

“Oh, Red,” said Liz, as she shook her head slowly, “I have no doubt that, given the opportunity, you’d take me down with both eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back.”

He shrugged at her and there was something almost good-natured in his answering smile. “Not with my eyes closed, Lizzie. You are lovely to look at, after all.”

The tension between them eased just a fraction. They gazed at one another in mutual appraisal. Neither of them moved or spoke for a few moments. The smooth compliment certainly didn’t flatter Liz but it did pique her curiosity. Just what in the world was Red up to anyway?

Liz crossed her arms over her chest. “What exactly do you want, Raymond?” she asked slowly, emphasizing the use of his first name as she uttered it for the first time, her voice purposefully honeyed when she said it.

His voice was equally lyrical. “Have I asked you for anything?”

Liz laughed, a warm, rich, buttery sound. “No. But that doesn’t mean you don’t want something.”

“I’m not a fan of our latest addition to the blacklist. I’m helping you because I believe it’s the right thing. Simple as that.”

Liz released a rapid breath -- a quick rush of air. “Nothing is as simple as that with you, Red.” scoffed Liz.

“Our man has seemed to take a particular interest in you. I like to help my friends, Lizzie.”

“I don’t think we qualify as friends per se.”

Red's smile was broad, a touch of admiration in his voice. “You really don’t budge, do you?”

Liz shook her head.

“Fair enough,” said Red. “What would you call us then?”

Liz answered almost too quickly. “An unholy alliance.”

Red chuckled.

Liz glared pointedly at her “guest,” silently willing him to get lost. But her chilly expression did not appear to be having the desired effect -- as he was still hovering earnestly in the doorway of her quarters, one shoulder poised languidly against the metal door.

Liz cleared her throat and followed it up with a delicate yawn.

“Tired?” asked Red.

“As a matter of fact -- yes.”

“Have a nightcap with me and I’ll let you get to bed.” When she started to refuse, he added an oddly sincere, “Please. I hate to drink alone.”

“A nightcap? Really?” Liz’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “If I didn’t know any better, Red, I’d almost think you’d planned this.”

“Raymond,” he reminded her. He smiled. “There’s a bottle of scotch in the drawer.”

Liz sighed and hurriedly opened the drawer as Red stepped the rest of the way into the room, the door closing behind him. She gracefully plucked the small bottle from its resting place, unscrewed the cap, and then handed it to him.

“Cheers, Lizzie. To unholy alliances.” He raised the bottle toward her in toast, took a long sip, and then passed the bottle her way.

Liz took a tiny sip. The warm liquid sent a pleasant trill throughout her system. She handed the bottle back to Red but he didn’t take another sip. Instead, he screwed the cap back on and placed the bottle back in the drawer. His eyes wandered across her features, moving lazily between two locations -- her eyes and her lips.

He couldn’t possibly be intending to --

Her contemplation regarding the man’s intentions was cut short when Red took her face in his hands, far more gently than she would have expected, and lowered his mouth, one thumb against either side of her jaw. He tilted her chin up, improving the angle between them.

It was barely a kiss. The action was more a simple grazing of his mouth against hers. There had probably been more contact between them on their last undercover op, when she had kissed each of his cheeks in turn in front of his source.

Liz narrowed her eyes at him. “What game do you think you’re playing, Reddington?”

“None. I’m certainly not foolish enough to try to seduce you if that’s what you think. Don’t you ever do anything for the sheer simple pleasure of doing it, Lizzie?”

“No,” answered Liz flatly, clearly seeing where this was going.

He offered her a lopsided grin and shook his head sadly. “That’s a travesty if it’s true -- which I highly doubt it is.”

He leaned in again, slowly, and pressed her back against the wall, gently capturing each of her wrists. He held onto her with enough conviction to make his intentions entirely clear -- but not so forcefully that she couldn’t move away from him if she wanted to.

Liz’s heart was racing and she wondered if Red could feel the quickening of her pulse against the thumbs that were pressing on her pulse points. The wall, so cold against her back, gave her a sudden chill. Or maybe it wasn’t from the wall at all. Red was watching her intently, his eyes on the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

He leaned down and kissed her again and this second kiss was as delicious as a full-bodied glass of wine. He increased the pressure of his mouth on hers when she responded, letting go of her wrists when he felt her body shift, ever so slightly, toward his own. He moaned plaintively against her mouth when she slipped her arms around his torso and pulled him more tightly against her. It wasn’t long before what began as a slow-building kiss quickly escalated into an outright make-out session against the wall of the small room.

“Is that what this is for, Red?” asked Liz, “For the sheer pleasure of it?”

“I’ve wanted to for a long time, Lizzie,” Red admitted in between more kisses. He was a good kisser, though she’d never tell him that.

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone,” Liz warned in a voice that was sweetly melodic, “I’ll deny it to the day I die.”

Red moved his mouth down to the hollow of her throat and then kissed a slow path to whisper into her right ear. “I won't kiss and tell, Lizzie, not that anyone would believe me in this case even if I did.” He grazed his lips against her earlobe, his breath warm against her skin.

“This doesn't mean I like you, Red,” said Liz when she felt his hands drift down to her waist. His thumbs brushed the edge of her blouse, poised and ready to pluck the silky fabric from the waistband of her tailored slacks.

His mouth was on hers again. Liz parted her lips and took his bottom lip in between her own, nibbling with a pressure that bordered on an actual bite. His tongue darted out and swirled delicately inside the soft contours of her mouth. The pleasurable sensation rippled its way through her body. She started to do the math in her head, how many months, how long since she’d done this.

Too fucking long by her admittedly fuzzy calculations.

His hands were underneath her blouse, rubbing against her bare abdomen. He squeezed her breasts, a little desperately, thumbs padding along the nipples through the lace of her bra. His erection strained against her thigh. Liz gave a quick upward tilt of her hips and Red groaned against the soft skin of her throat when she pressed up against his straining cock. The lips that had been nibbling with such practiced care on the curve of her neck grew slack. He swore.

Liz smiled.

Red grabbed her waist, searching furtively for the buttons on her pants.

“On the side, genius,” said Liz archly, tossing her head back to throw him a caustically impatient glower as he fumbled with her clothing and then his own.

Red laughed as he turned her around. “You’re so incredibly bossy and condescending sometimes, Lizzie, I swear.” His hands were gentle, a surprisingly arousing contrast to the roughness in his voice as he ran fingertips up and down her spine and then swirled teasing patterns along her waistline before finally pulling her underwear down.

Eager fingers parted her folds and glided over her clit. “You’re so wet,” he murmured into her ear, a trifle smug. Liz groaned. She’d worry about putting Red in his place later. For now she just wanted him to fuck her.

He pushed inside her all at once, one hand anchoring her waist. Liz’s palms were pressed flat against the wall for necessary leverage. She slipped a little when he was fully sheathed and Red gripped her tighter, angling his body to give them both more support. The angle wasn’t exactly perfect for her and she realized, regretfully, that she might not be able to come like this. She considered firing a cranky directive at her partner when Red skimmed his free hand down the front of Liz’s body to the triangle of curls. He slid skillful fingers over the tiny bundle of nerves in time to his heavy thrusts. Liz bit hard on her lip to keep from whimpering in near-gratitude when he hit on a particularly sensitive spot in perfect time with a particularly deep push of his hips.

She wasn’t as quiet as she’d intended to be when she came, releasing an uncontrolled stream of nonsensical obscenities and breathy cries. He followed a few thrusts later, spilling into her with his own drawn-out and well-satisfied moan. His hips bucked against her erratically as he rode out the final aftershocks of his climax. Red panted against her neck as he regained his composure. The fingers that reached to idly caress her waist were damp.

The hazy fog of unsated lust lifted, and the couple disentangled themselves from one another without making eye contact. Red pulled up his pants with as much finesse as he could muster and tucked himself back into his boxers, only daring to smile at Liz after he had put himself back together. Liz did not return the smile as she primly straightened her blouse, giving her tousled hair a quick shake.

Red shook out Liz’s rumpled pants and handed them to her.

“Thank you, Red,” she said, accepting them. Her voice was clipped.

“Can I at least get a farewell kiss so I don’t feel like I’m just a boy-toy?”

Liz leaned in. She enjoyed the fleeting certainty in Red’s eyes as she did, the easy assurance that she was going to kiss him. She brushed one of her long hairs off of the collar of his shirt instead and looked pointedly down to his groin.

“You’re far too old to be a boy-toy. Now zip up your fly, Red,” she ordered sharply before pushing him toward the door.

Red obeyed with a light laugh that was almost -- but not quite -- endearing. To his credit, he did take the hint about leaving -- but not before planting a quick, defiant kiss on Liz’s cheek.


End file.
